


Everything On You Intoxicates

by sunshinexbomb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, Liam In Crop Tops, M/M, Tour Bus Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1809739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is it - it’s not what I’ve been wearing is it? Like - Zayn, mate, I know - I know it’s not what you’re used to or like - traditional or whatever but like. I didn’t think you would be one of those people to be uncomfortable or to care or anything -” </p>
<p>“Liam, it is what you’ve been wearing,” Zayn blurts out, his face twisted up. It almost looks like he’s in pain, and Liam feels like his heart is constricting until Zayn finally reaches out and touches him, a hesitant hand placed directly on his bare hip. “But like, fuck Liam it’s not what you think at all.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Or, where Liam wears crop tops and Zayn suffers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything On You Intoxicates

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I haven't posted anything in forever and Liam should start wearing crop tops. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Sanya](http://thebarbershopquartet.tumblr.com/) for the quick beta!
> 
> I do not own One Direction, because if I did they would all be wearing crop tops all the time. Title is from Justin Timberlake's "Strawberry Bubblegum".

  
“Louis what the hell is this?”   
    
Louis snaps his head up from whatever it was he’s been showing Niall on his phone, the grin on his face slipping into badly feigned innocence. “Dunno, Liam, what is it?’   
    
Liam holds up the white t-shirt in his hand - or at least what’s left of it. “Well it looks like something’s happened to my wardrobe.”   
    
Louis blinks up at him with large doe-like eyes, and Liam’s forced to count backwards from ten slowly in his head.   
    
“Isn’t that a shame, Leemo?” Niall giggles. “I think you could totally pull off a crop top though. You’ve got them like abs and whatnot.”   
    
Liam holds the shirt up to his chest. It’d been quite long that morning, the hem falling down well past his bum and to the top of his thighs. He knows that if he puts it on now though it’d barely go past the middle of his torso, probably coming to rest a few inches above his navel.   
    
“Do you really?” Liam asks drily. “Glad to hear it considering _every single one_ of my t-shirts looks like this now.”   
    
Liam doesn’t break eye-contact with Louis who continues to blink at him owlishly. Liam’s not fooled at all.   
    
“Have any idea who could’ve done this, Lou?” Liam asks finally when the staring has gone on way too long.   
    
Louis shrugs. “Haven’t the slightest, to be honest. You should send them a thank you note though, Liam. They definitely did you a favor.”   
    
Niall nods enthusiastically. Liam doesn’t know if he’s had a hand in this but he wouldn’t put it past him. Louis almost always has an accomplice.   
    
They stare at each other a few seconds longer, Liam blankly and Louis with an eyebrow raised like he’s proposing a challenge. There were days when Liam would’ve fumed at this, maybe even thrown a proper stromp, but they’re not seventeen anymore. He knows how to deal with Louis now, knows that if there’s a challenge, he can’t back down.   
    
If Louis wants to put him in crop tops, he’ll wear crop tops.   
    
\--   
    
During the quick change half-way through the show that night, Liam slips on one of the cut up tee’s and it’s - strange. The shirt lies halfway down his midriff, just as predicted, and Liam keeps wanting to pull it down until it reaches the waistband of his jeans. Overall it’s not too weird though. Niall’s right - Liam works hard spending hours at the gym and eating right, and there should be no shame in wanting to show off his toned stomach or the cut of his hips.   
    
Harry lets out a low whistle. “Looking good, Liam.”   
    
Liam grins, eyes trained on Louis who just shrugs. “Told you, Payno. Thank you card.”   
    
They get on stage and Liam thinks there’s only been a few times the audience has screamed louder. It’s nearly deafening, and Liam can tell there are tens of thousands of cameras and phones pointing right at him. Liam catches a glimpse of himself on the jumbo screen and can’t help but smile. He looks good - he _feels_ good.   
    
Maybe he really will send Louis a thank you card.   
    
\--   
    
Liam’s having more fun than he’s had in ages, bouncing around to every corner of the stage. He gyrates his hips, listens to the screams around him and soaks it all in. He feels _sexy_ is the thing. He likes the short hem of the crop top and how it bounces up whenever he moves his body just right.   
    
Most nights, Liam’s well aware that he looks ridiculous with the way he moves his arms and legs and grinds his hips to the beat of the song. He feels different tonight and he likes it. He thinks he can get used to this burst of confidence, this liberation. It’s a good feeling.   
    
Liam can feel how the rest of the boys are feeding off his energy. Niall dances with him and Harry runs a cheeky hand across his bare stomach as he passes by during one of his solos and Louis takes a minute between songs to comment on how “there’s a bit more skin showing on stage today isn’t there?” Liam loves it, can’t get enough of it, and it just gets him more wound up and excited as the night goes on.   
    
Zayn’s the only one who’s a bit off. Liam doesn’t fail to notice how he always seems to gravitate towards the opposite side of the stage as Liam, slinging an arm around Niall’s neck or whispering into Louis’s ear when Liam approaches him. They all have their off-days though, and Liam tries not to think anything of it, concentrating more on the happy bubbling in his stomach than the strained expressions he sometimes catches Zayn making in his direction.   
    
Liam’s swinging his hips to “Alive”, grinning and waving to the crowd in between his parts when he notices that Zayn misses the cue to his part. Even on his off-days Zayn rarely misses his cues, and Liam comes up behind him between songs to sling an arm over his shoulder and across his chest.   
    
“Everything okay?” he asks. Zayn stiffens momentarily, but a bit of tension Liam hadn’t realized he was holding relaxes when Zayn’s hand rests on top of his.   
    
Zayn turns around in his grasp, squeezing his hand lightly before giving a nod. “Yeah, must be tired or something,” he says, grinning weakly.   
    
Liam’s not too convinced, but Zayn bounds off quickly, going to point out a sign to Harry before Liam can get a word in otherwise. He tries not to let it all bother him, and it doesn’t take long for him to get swept up into the next song, thoughts of Zayn momentarily pushed to the back of his mind.   
    
\--   
    
“How does this one look?”   
    
Niall’s eyes are still glued to his phone when he replies, “Looks fine.”   
    
“You’re not even looking,” Liam pouts, tugging a bit self-consciously at the hem of his shirt.   
    
“They’ve all looked fine,” Niall sighs, looking up nonetheless, his lips quirking into a smile as he does. “You’ve been waiting all day to try one of ‘em on haven’t you?”   
    
Liam shrugs, turning to the mirror like it’s no big deal. The crop top he’s put on is navy blue, Captain America shield emblazoned on the front. The hem’s about the same size as the shirts Louis had cut up, the ones he’s been wearing on stage nearly every night. He thought it was time to bump up to something more proper if this was something he was adding as an official part of his tour wardrobe. Couldn’t keep wearing ratty, homemade tops with the hems fraying due to Louis’s shoddy scissor-work, could he?   
    
“Does it look okay?” Liam asks, feeling a bit like a teenage girl as he takes a photo himself in the mirror, sending it in their group message and asking the same question.   
    
“You know it looks great,” Niall says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been walking around in the bloody things for weeks now.”   
    
Liam shrugs again, smiling a bit sheepishly and looking at his phone as it buzzes twice. Harry’s responded with a thumbs up emoji and a string of various fruits that Liam doesn’t really understand the meaning of. Louis sends back three poo emojis. Liam takes both answers as signs of approval.   
    
He tries not to think anything of the fact that Zayn hasn’t responded at all.   
    
Liam looks back at the mirror, tugging down on the hem of his shirt again. Even pulled down it doesn’t reach the waistband of his pants where they’re peeking out from his the top of his jeans. He knows that Niall isn’t exaggerating; he really has been wearing the t-shirts Louis had cut up for a couple weeks now. He jokes it’s just to piss off Louis who seems to roll his eyes every time he sees Liam walk in with his midriff on display, but really he likes how they make him _feel_.   
    
Liam likes looking good, and he likes _knowing_ he looks good.   
    
He’d gone on Twitter right after wearing the crop top that first night on stage, beaming at his phone while he read the comments in his indirects. There were pictures from the show that night, Liam in different angles and lightings all showing the same moments. The one thing they all highlight are the features he works hardest to improve and maintain - his abs, his narrow waist, the cut of his hips, and the trail of dark hair that travels down his stomach and past his navel.   
    
Louis had been right next to him in the van, and his eyes nearly rolled out of his head when he saw what it was Liam was grinning at.   
    
“Getting a little vain aren’t we, Payno?” he asked, voice far too fond to be condescending.   
    
Liam just shrugged and giggled, ducking his head to peer at the new comments on his Twitter feed. There’s no denying he looks as sexy as he feels, but most importantly the look gives him an edge, a boost of self-confidence that he’s been lacking for a while.   
    
“So, I should wear it then? It’s not too much?” Liam asks Niall, peering at him through the mirror.   
    
Despite everything, Liam’s a bit hesitant to make the purchase. Parading around in his cut-up tees is one thing. He can pass it off as a way to meet Louis’s challenge or joke that he’s got nothing else to wear now that all of his shirts have been ruined. Buying something proper is making a statement that he knows many would find too bold, even for a member of the world’s biggest boyband.   
    
Liam sees it all - he knows that for every person praising his decision and reaffirming all the good things he’s felt about himself, there’s been somebody trying to shoot him down. There’s been hundreds of comments on his masculinity and his sexual orientation, and while Liam knows objectively that none of it matters, it still makes his skin crawl and makes him more uncomfortable than he’s been in ages.   
    
“‘Course it’s not too much,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Why are you asking this all of a sudden, huh? Did someone say something to you?”   
    
“No,” Liam shakes his head. He plops down on the bench Niall’s sat on, resting his head on Niall’s shoulder. Niall snakes an arm around his waist, tickles his calloused fingers against the bit of Liam’s bare skin that’s peeking out.   
    
“What is it then?”   
    
There’s a small hole forming in Niall’s black jeans and Liam fiddles with it, Niall letting him even though it’s just making the hole grow larger. He knows what it is that’s really bothering him, what’s been on his mind more than the comments of the press or the fans or anyone else. It’s just he doesn’t really want to say it, especially not out loud, even if it’s just to Niall who he would trust with anything.   
    
“It’s Zayn,” Liam admits, not surprised when Niall’s eyebrows shoot up.   
    
“What about Zayn exactly?”   
    
Liam shrugs. “I just. I think he’s ignoring me? Or something. I’m not exactly sure.”   
    
Niall still looks confused. “Why would he be -?”   
    
He stops though when Liam gaze falls, and he starts playing with the hem of the tops he’s wearing. Realization dawns on his face.   
    
“Liam he wouldn’t be ignoring you because of that. You know he wouldn’t.”   
    
“That’s what I thought,” Liam sighs. “But like that’s when it started. He’s been distant since I first began wearing them and I don’t know why.”   
    
Niall has worry etched into his face, and he slinks an arm around Liam’s waist, pulling him close. “Leemo, you know Zayn better than anyone. You should know that he’s not like one of those dickheads in the press or anything. Like Zayn respects you and he loves you more than anything.”   
    
Liam nods. “I know. I just - it’s hard to believe all that when he’s barely said a word to me in the last couple of weeks.”   
    
The silence has been the worst part, Liam thinks. No matter what, Zayn’s never done this. He’s never ignored Liam or avoided him or anything and it’s absolutely the most awful thing Liam’s experienced. Liam would like to think that Zayn’s not like the press, that he’s open-minded enough to accept this part of Liam just like he’s accepted every other part of Liam that’s been revealed to him over the past few year.   
    
Liam trusts Zayn more than he trusts anyone, he values Zayn’s opinion more than he values anyone else’s. Zayn’s behavior has been a blow so hard that Liam barely knows how to deal with it.   
    
“Whatever it is, it’ll sort itself out,” Niall says, kissing Liam’s cheek. “It has to, yeah? You guys are like two parts of a whole. Zayn’s probably feeling like half a heart without you -”   
    
Liam lets out a loud, sudden laugh, pushing away a giggling Niall who starts serenading him loudly in the empty dressing room.   
    
\--   
    
It’s a travel night, all of them piled into the backroom of the bus to watch a film. Liam’s leaned up against Niall, Louis on the other side of him. Harry’s moved farther down the couch, having gotten fed up with Niall and Louis competing to see who could get more pieces of popcorn to stick in his curls (Niall won eight to six). Zayn’s head is in Harry’s lap, toes curled under Louis’s thigh, and he’s paying more attention to his phone than the film Niall’s chosen. Liam’s relaxed. He likes having the lads around him and not having anything to do, even if it is for just a few hours.   
    
Louis’s the only one of them that seems restless. He’s incredibly fidgety, unable to concentrate too long on the film or his phone or anything else really. He keeps looking around, letting out long, exaggerated sighs once he realizes that he’s the only one that’s wound up.   
    
Liam catches Louis’s eye when his gaze turns over to him. Louis raises his hand up, and Liam takes it in his own well before it can make its intended path to his nipples.   
    
“You okay, Lou?” Liam asks, placing Louis and his hands in his lap.   
    
“I’m fine, Payno. Are _you_ okay?” Louis scoffs, freeing himself from Liam’s lax grip.   
    
Liam rolls his eyes, not bothering to answer. He returns his attention to the film, and he sees from the corner of his eye how it makes Louis frown.   
    
“Why do you keep wearing these?” Louis asks after a few minutes, obviously trying to return Liam’s attention back to him. He pokes his finger against Liam’s bare hip, just below the jagged hem of one of the homemade crop tops.   
    
Liam shrugs. “It’s what you wanted isn’t it? Did you think I would throw away perfectly good tops?”   
    
“I didn’t think you’d wear them all the time,” Louis mumbles. “I hope you know you look like an idiot.”   
    
“I think he looks very lovely,” Harry says politely. “Dashing even.”   
    
Liam grins at him, grateful for the compliment even though he knows full well that Louis doesn’t mean it, especially not when he’d spent just the other day raving about how he still hasn’t gotten a thank you card for helping improving Liam’s life and wardrobe.   
    
“Gotta agree with Hazza on this one,” Niall laughs. “It’s definitely a good look. Plus, good on Payno for taking your prank and turning it around for his own benefit.”   
    
“I’ve created monsters,” Louis grins, more fond than anything like he can’t help but be proud of the corruption of his friends.   
    
Liam smiles more widely, can feel his cheeks rise and his eyes crinkle. He loves this. He loves the attention from the lads, their approval and their affection. He loves Niall slinging an arm around his shoulders, kissing the side of his head sloppily with a giggle, and Harry’s dimpled smile aimed right towards him, and Louis’s arm around his waist, tickling at his bare skin.   
    
Something feels off though. Liam could have all the attention in the world and it wouldn’t matter when he can’t feel the heat of Zayn’s hand on his thigh or his soft breath against his neck. They’re not that far from each other, but Liam thinks that not having Zayn right next to him right now sets them worlds apart.   
    
There’s few things in the world that matter more to Liam than the warmth of Zayn’s smile when it’s curled up in approval. Right now he won’t even look at Liam though. His eyes are set firmly on the screen of his phone despite the fact that he hasn’t read a word since Louis started speaking.   
    
“What about you then Zayn? I’m guessing you agree with them as well don’t you?” Louis asks, wrapping a hand around one of Zayn’s ankles.   
    
Zayn gives a small jerk in surprise, and Liam freezes. The stiffness in Zayn’s shoulders is visible, even when he’s lying down, and it’s obvious he’s still trying to avoid Liam’s eye, just like he has been the whole evening. Liam knows it’s not just in his head like Niall thinks. There’s something wrong and it makes Liam feel like someone’s dropped a rock into the pit of his stomach.   
    
Zayn gets up so he’s leaning on his forearms, gaze drawn on Louis even though Liam’s looking straight at him. His face is blank, but there’s a slight crinkle in his forehead, barely noticeable to someone unless they’ve spent spent years learning each and every line of Zayn’s face, every facial tick, and every tell he has for every emotion like Liam has.   
    
Liam can tell Zayn is uncomfortable. Another rock drops into his stomach.   
    
Not even Niall’s comforting squeeze to his side is enough to loosen the tightening in his chest as he watches Zayn bite down on his lip nervously, leaving teeny tiny indents in his skin.   
    
“I haven’t really like thought about it,” Zayn finally shrugs, “it’s okay, I suppose. Dunno.”   
    
Louis raises an eyebrow, clearly about to comment on the catch in Zayn’s voice, but Zayn gives a slight shake of his head and Louis surprisingly backs off.   
    
“Guess it’s four to one then,” Louis sighs, removing his hand from Zayn’s ankle with a rise of an eyebrow. Liam sees something pass between them, a silent communication that he’s always been jealous of because he wants to be the only one who can read Zayn like an open book - especially when Zayn’s purposefully gluing the pages shut and keeping him out.   
    
Zayn shrugs again, finally meeting Liam’s eye for the first time that night. He looks away quickly, but it’s enough for Liam to see a flicker of confusion, a hint of unease.   
    
“I’m uh - I’m a bit knackered, to be honest,” Zayn says, getting up from the couch. “Think I’m gonna turn in a bit early.”   
    
Liam keeps his eyes on Zayn, watching as he leaves the backroom with his head tucked down, and before he can really think about it, he stands up too, following Zayn to the bunks.   
    
Zayn’s already climbed into his bunk by the time Liam gets there, the privacy curtain pulled shut. For the first time since this has all started, Liam’s angry. He can feel coils of something bitter and mean curling around his chest.   
    
Liam finds that it’s easier to be angry than hurt. Anger is simple, it’s straightforward. It’s okay to be angry that Zayn’s blatantly avoiding him because Zayn’s his best friend and he’s supposed to be supportive of him in the way Liam’s always been for Zayn, for all of them, and Zayn hasn’t been. Getting hurt complicates things because sometimes it’s a little scary for Liam to think about just how much Zayn’s opinion means to him.   
    
“I know you’re not asleep,” Liam mumbles, leaning against the outside of the bunks.   
    
There’s a snuffle from Zayn’s bed, a bit of movement and Liam lets out a huff of frustration.   
    
“I’m about to come in there.”   
    
“Go ‘way, Liam,” Zayn mutters.   
    
Ignoring Zayn’s protests, Liam makes good on his threat, crawling into his bunk. It’s a bit of a struggle, especially with Zayn trying to keep him out, but Liam uses his strength to advantage, pushing Zayn closer to the wall until they’re both squeezed into the tiny space.   
    
“Can you please get the fuck out?” Zayn grumbles, pushing on Liam’s chest futilely. “Jesus, Li, you’re massive.”   
    
“Nah, I’m pretty sure the bunk’s have just shrunk,” Liam says drily, relaxing a bit at Zayn’s reluctant giggle.   
    
It really is a tight fit, the bunk seeming much much smaller than when they were eighteen and traveling across America for the first time. It was easier then to tuck into bed together, Liam’s arm across Zayn’s waist and their legs tangled together, keeping each other anchored and feeling safe in the whirlwind their lives had become.   
    
They’re lying just as close to each other now as they used to before, but it’s a different kind of closeness. Their proximity isn’t because of comfort but because of how constrained they are, and it makes Liam feel like him and Zayn are just as far apart as they had been back when they were with the other lads just a few minutes ago.   
    
A heavy silence lies in the small amount of space between them, thick and suffocating and Liam hates this. He hates that Zayn still won’t look at him and that even now it’s like there’s some kind of wall separating him.   
    
“Are you going to tell me why you’ve been such a dick lately, bro?” Liam asks with a sigh.   
    
Zayn snaps his head up finally meeting Liam’s eyes for longer than a brief second. “What? I haven’t been a dick.”   
    
“Please,” Liam rolls his eyes, “Zayn, you’ve barely spoken to me in the last few weeks. You can barely even look at me. I just want to know what’s wrong.”   
    
Zayn bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything, averting his gaze until it’s trained on Liam’s bare midriff. His top’s ridden up during the struggle of climbing into Zayn’s bunk, and it’s hiked up nearly to his chest. Liam feels his the inside of his stomach tighten, when he realizes Zayn’s discomfort is back.   
    
“Is it - it’s not what I’ve been wearing is it?” Liam asks, voice quieter, smaller, less confident. “Like - Zayn, mate, I know - I know it’s not what you’re used to or like - traditional or whatever but like. I didn’t think you would be one of those people to be uncomfortable or to care or anything -”   
    
“Liam, it is what you’ve been wearing,” Zayn blurts out, his face twisted up. It almost looks like he’s in pain, and Liam feels like his heart is constricting until Zayn finally reaches out and touches him, a hesitant hand placed directly on his bare hip. “But like, fuck Liam it’s not what you think at all.” Zayn’s palm is so so warm, nearly burning, and Liam hadn’t realized how much he’s missed his touch.   
    
Liam scoots a little closer to Zayn, relief flooding through him when Zayn doesn’t try to move away. He raises an eyebrow in question, silently urging Zayn to continue.   
    
Zayn takes a deep breath and explains, “It’s not that I don’t like it, Liam. Do you realize how fucking _good_ you look in these fucking crop tops? I’ve legitimately been having a hard time dealing with it physically and mentally and every other possible way.”   
    
There’s a beat of silence where Liam’s breath catches. The top of Zayn’s cheeks are flushed a soft, barely-there pink, and he looks nervous and embarrassed and basically everything Liam never wants Zayn to feel around him.   
    
“Oh - I thought you - oh.”   
    
Relief like Liam’s never felt before courses through him, all his anger dissipating until he’s forced to let out a surprised laugh. The laugh turns into a series of uncontrollable giggles that make Liam’s shoulders shake until he notices Zayn’s face fall before completely shutting off.   
    
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” Zayn mutters. “Liam if you’re just gonna take the piss -”   
    
“No,” Liam gets out through the last of his giggles, “Zayn, no.”   
    
Zayn’s trying to push him out again, but Liam catches his wrist this time bringing them closer until Liam can bury his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck.   
    
“That’s not it at all Zayn. I’m just glad you don’t like hate me or aren’t disappointed or anything of that sort. Do you know how much I’ve been worrying that you don’t like approve or whatever? I’ve been driving myself mental.”   
    
“Liam, I could never hate you,” Zayn says softly, hand snaking around to the bare skin on the small of Liam’s back, his palm impossibly warm just like it’d been when it was on his hip.   
    
“Did you really think I looked good?” Liam asks. He can’t help but smirk a little against Zayn’s neck, and he knows that Zayn can feel it from the way Zayn pinches his side playfully.   
    
“Jesus, Liam, you don’t even realize. Do you know how hard it is to perform when you’re freaking out because your best mate’s given you a stiff in front of seventy thousand people? And sometimes you do that _thing_ with your hips and it makes me completely insane.”   
    
They’ve somehow tangled up together in Zayn’s small bunk, and Liam shifts so Zayn’s lying on his back, Liam hovering above him, straddling his hips. It’s still a bit tight, but Liam likes knowing that if lied down him and Zayn would be pressed together everywhere. Not to mention that Zayn looks impossibly beautiful underneath him with his bright eyes and mussed up hair.   
    
“Thing with my hips? You mean this thing?” he rolls his hips down as best he can. It’s hard when there’s not much room, but it’s enough to make Zayn let out a breathy moan, and Liam can feel his semi through his trackies.   
    
“Yeah, that thing,” Zayn groans.   
    
Liam barely thinks before he leans down to kiss Zayn, their mouths pressed firm together. Zayn gasps when Liam rolls his hips again, blunt fingernails digging into Liam’s back. Zayn’s mouth is hot against his while they kiss with more fervor, and Liam’s cock is hardening quickly where it’s pressed against Zayn’s hip.   
    
Zayn brings his hand back towards Liam’s front, his fingers traveling up the short hem of the crop top. He traces down Liam’s chest and abs before coming to rest on the elastic of his joggers.   
    
“Can I -?”   
    
“Please,” Liam moans, and Zayn doesn’t hesitate in pushing down his sweats and pants until they’re halfway down Liam’s thighs.   
    
Liam lifts his arms to pull on the collar of his top, trying to take it off, but Zayn stops him. “Leave it on,” he says.   
    
Liam doesn’t have time to argue because Zayn moves his hand down to grasp the base of his prick. If Liam thought it felt good to have Zayn’s hand on his thigh or back, it’s nothing compared to how it feels on his cock.   
    
The first few tugs are a bit too dry, but it gets better when Zayn rolls down Liam’s foreskin, revealing the leaking head. He uses Liam’s precome to reduce the friction, and it only takes a few more strokes until Liam’s coming with a shudder, come splashing against both their stomachs.   
    
Liam has to close his eyes for a few seconds, his face buried in Zayn’s shoulder as he takes a few calming breaths.   
    
“Zayn that was -”   
    
“Liam, as much as I’d love to hear what that was, I’m about to get myself off if you don’t -”   
    
Liam curses, pulling down Zayn’s trackies before he can get another word out. His cock is hard, leaking and curving prettily towards his belly. Zayn lets out a small whine when Liam gets a hand on him and gives a few experimental strokes. Liam finds his rhythm quickly, Zayn bucking into his hand a few times before he comes with a soft groan. His come lands mostly on Liam’s bare stomach, some staining the bottom hem of Liam’s top.   
    
The two of them lie there for a couple minutes, sticky and wet and absolutely spent. Liam’s beginning to feel a little bit disgusting, but he also can’t get himself to move either.   
    
“I’m sorry,” Zayn says. He’s been tracing little patterns on Liam’s back, and he stops to span his hand out across it instead, pressing Liam closer to him.   
    
“What for, bro? Giving me one of the best orgasms of my life?”   
    
“No, you idiot,” Zayn giggles. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a dick. I should’ve just like talked to you or something. I don’t know. It wasn’t right, just ignoring you. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was making you feel so awful.”   
    
“It’s okay, it’s like I said. I’m just happy you don’t hate me,” Liam grins. He should feel a bit ridiculous, having a conversation like this with his softening cock out and covered in come, but like most things with Zayn, it feels normal.   
    
Zayn’s completely serious when he moves his hand to Liam’s face, cupping his face and bringing him down for a kiss that’s soft and tender and sweet. “And like I said, I could never hate you.”   
    
\--   
    
Liam swings his hips back and forth, the hem of the Captain America crop top he’d bought with Niall fluttering out for a second before coming back to rest against his midriff. The screams around him get louder for a second and he can’t help but grin before bouncing over to sling an around Zayn’s shoulder.   
    
Zayn bumps their hips together together with an exasperated smile and Liam beams at him while asking him to, “dance with me, baby.”   
    
Before he can get a response, Liam’s bounding off again, coming up beside Sandy and pretending to play the bass and then turning to Harry and whispering some nonsense in his ear just to get a reaction from the crowd.    
    
It’s not until the next song that he’s near Zayn again, and this time, instead of turning away, Zayn walks past him, running his fingers over Liam’s bare hip with no subtlety at all.   
    
“You’re doing this on purpose aren’t you?” Zayn whispers, leaning close enough that his mouth is pressed to the shell of Liam’s ear.   
    
“Doing what on purpose?” Liam giggles, shrugging. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”   
    
Zayn rolls his eyes, giving Liam’s side a squeeze, digging his fingers into Liam’s warm skin.   
    
Liam swings his hips again, grinning when he sees Zayn’s expression blown up on the jumbo screen, looking pained and fond at the same time. It’s supposed to be a look just for Liam, but he thinks he doesn’t mind sharing it with the world. 


End file.
